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They sat at the dining table, the silence stretching between them. Tara placed the bowl of porridge in front of Veer, then sat across from him. He began eating without a word, his eyes flicking toward her briefly before returning to the bowl.
After a few bites, Veer spoke, his voice low. "You didn't have to do this. The staff will be back tomorrow."
Tara shrugged, her reply dismissive. "It's fine."
The tension between them simmered, unspoken but heavy. Tara could see the way Veer's jaw tightened, his posture stiff. She wanted to reach out, to say something, but she wasn't sure how.
His movements were robotic, his facade as intact as ever. It frustrated her, this wall he kept up, even after everything that had happened. But then again, she wasn't sure if she had the right to ask for more. They hadn't signed up for this—either of them.
The silence between them became almost unbearable, the sound of his spoon scraping the bowl amplifying the void that separated them. Tara opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wasn't used to comforting anyone, least of all someone like Veer, someone who seemed so closed off, so untouchable. Yet, the thought of him sitting there, alone in his grief, made her heart ache in a way she wasn't prepared for.
"I—" she began, her voice faltering. She swallowed, trying to find her footing. "I know this is... difficult. But if you—if you need anything, Veer... I'm here." The words felt clumsy, inadequate, but they were all she had.
For a brief moment, his spoon paused mid-air, but he didn't look up. The tension in his jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face before he resumed eating, his movements as measured as before.
"You don't have to keep everything inside, you know," she tried again, her voice low but steady
Veer's hand stilled for a moment, the tension in his shoulders betraying the calm expression on his face. He set the spoon down carefully, wiping his mouth with the edge of a napkin before finally lifting his eyes to meet hers.
For a second, the mask slipped. Just a second. His eyes, dark and weary, met hers with an intensity that caught her off guard. But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanished, replaced by the same guarded look he always wore.
I'm fine, Tara," he said quietly, his voice neutral, emotionless. "You don't need to worry about me."
Tara nodded, sensing the conversation closing down. The silence returned, even heavier now.
When Veer finished, he set the spoon down with a sharp clink. "Thanks for the food," he muttered before standing and walking away, not meeting her eyes.
Tara stayed seated, watching him go, the space between them feeling wider than ever.
